Lake
by nonsequiturvy
Summary: The queen bathes. A thief interrupts. Missing year Enchanted Forest.


She has two days' worth of grime to scrub off her skin, from underneath her nails and out of her hair (drenched now, it drags her down deep into the water, but it's nothing compared to carrying the weight of the Evil Queen on her shoulders—the leather pants, the riding boots, the feathered cape and jewel-studded corset, now discarded in a heap along the bankside of the lake). She'd had to abandon camp two miles east in order to find it, but the sweaty dirt-ridden trek through the forest was worth the bath to wash it all off now, Regina decides as she submerges completely, legs kicking out beneath her at a leisurely pace to keep afloat.

When she finally resurfaces, she discovers that she is no longer alone.

And of course it is this man, this _thief_, who would be the one to stumble upon her here, to disturb the brief moment of peace she'd found where she wouldn't have had to hide her heart from anyone at all (and that same heart she had tried to bury in the ground several weeks before betrays her right back, beats just a little faster now). Then he's advancing uninvited toward the edge of the water as he speaks, voice low and with a hint of amusement, _My apologies, milady, am I interrupting?_ A scowl sets into her features, _Clearly_, she wants to snarl at him, but this thief and his merry band of misfit men are their only allies in these woods, and it wouldn't do to antagonize allies (something Snow is always quick to point out every time Regina so much as glowers at one of them for laughing louder than is strictly necessary, or for dallying at the campsite when they can't afford to stay in one place for too long).

_You won't mind if I join you, then?_ he's asking her now when she doesn't respond, but the question had only been meant as a formality, it seems, for as she forms her mouth around an emphatic _No (over my dead body)_, he's already shedding his attire, piece by piece, his bow and quiver slung over a dry slab of rock on the bank, tunic shrugged off and tossed aside, and when he reaches for the waistband of his trousers Regina forces herself to avert her gaze, so she doesn't see what's there (or not) underneath, and so he doesn't see the flush rising up in her cheeks at the very thought of it.

And then he's waist-deep into the lake, close, too close, she feels his movements through the ripples of water that caress her bare shoulders, languid, unhurried, but they still as she finally turns to him. Her feet find solid ground as his eyes find hers, searching for something, something else to take from her, perhaps, first it was her privacy and now it's her breath he steals away as his gaze grows hooded, darkens; yet he still stands motionless before her, even as his jaw begins to clench and the muscles along his neck and shoulders tighten, and what is the idiot waiting for, Regina wonders, until she realizes, her, it's her, she was in the water first and now she's the one who decides if he can stay—

So she lets him, oh does she, and then he's moving too, hands firm at her waist, then her hips, then everywhere, all over, pulling her body against his as she meets his mouth with a kiss, and it's messy from the start, all tongue and no patience, and even though her toes are buried in the sand, the shallow waters nipping just above the level of her breasts, where her nipples have pebbled against the rough, callused skin of his palms, she feels like she just might drown. _Robin_, she gasps, and the sound of his name falling from her lips does things to him, unspeakable things, she feels the length of him, hard, already so hard, twitch against her stomach with nothing in between as he groans, forehead falling into the crook of her neck for a split second before she's dragging his lips back to hers with a hand fisted into his hair.

He lifts her legs easily to wrap around his waist, her weight carried by the buoyant force of the lake surrounding them, and she shudders into his mouth when her core rubs along his cock, and a liquid heat pools down low into her belly. His fingers find her center, a slickness there that the water cannot account for, thread their way along her folds to where they meet in a bundle of nerves, and then he presses there. Her hands scrabble for purchase down his back, nails digging into his skin, and she feels his spine arch into her touch, savors the strangled groan he releases from deep in his throat.

She tries to take him hard and fast, but his kisses slow, mouth angled and dragging openly across hers, tongues tangling, swallowing the gasp she lets out as he pushes into her at an exquisitely torturous pace, stretches her, fills her to the hilt; and she nearly whimpers at the sensation but it's hardly a sound befitting an Evil Queen, so she clenches tightly around his cock as it moves within her, heightening the friction, bringing a moan to his lips instead. His palms roam freely over her back now as his hips rock steadily into hers, mouth fumbling to steal another kiss but they're clumsy in their ecstasy, ripples of pleasure making her weak. There's a hitch at the end of every breath, and every breath a trembling sigh, mingling with his as his nose presses into her cheek, lips catching briefly against hers before her breathing shallows, quickens, and her hips roll into his, more, more, and oh—oh—_Robin_, she cries out, he groans her name in return and then she's falling apart in his arms, the shock of her bliss stiffening her body, robbing it of all control.

Robin thrusts into her once, twice more, before he comes with her, and his release has him shuddering, brings him to his knees, and the lake is lapping just above her mouth now as she floats, weightlessly, with his hands at her waist as an anchor, fingers still spasming as the last licks of pleasure burn through his nerves. She presses a kiss just above his brow, where his eyes are squeezed shut, but they open at the feel of her lips on his skin, and he smiles, dazedly, without words.

For some months that follow, when she thinks she's being strong because _love is weakness_, nothing more, it's only words that she'll give him, words that are barbed and dipped in poison. It is her thing, after all, and with all the strength of her magic reserved for the day she'll need to use it on Zelena, her mouth is the most powerful weapon she has—in more ways than one, she'll later discover, though the sight of Robin's eyes rolling back and his jaw slackening in a silent gasp of ecstasy does things to _her_, too, and she realizes she's not so invulnerable after all. For she wears her heart on her sleeve, and it's a burden she doesn't recognize until it's gone, the moment that Robin decides to carry its weight for the both of them.

And finally, one day, she lets him.


End file.
